Auld Lang Syne
by rationalbookworm
Summary: New Years was always one of those holidays that had Sherlock moping around, no matter what John and Mary tried. This one started out no different than the rest. Part 3 of the Lost And Found Series. One Shot.


**Happy New Year all! Even if it is a little early. I just didn't want to wait any longer. This has been sitting on my computer for a while now and I figured, it's only a couple days away, so I may as well put it up so I don't forget later.**

**This is part of my Lost and Found Series. I'm actually gonna put this series on temporary hiatus until I'm finished with some other stuff. Or that's the plan anyway. If my muse suddenly decides to throw this back at me I may take it off hiatus again. We'll see what happens. **

**Also, I have Mary in this one, but it probably won't line up with the Mary in series three. I'm basing her mostly on the books, and my own imagination. So she's kinda like a semi-OC or something. Whatever. Anyway, please no hate when if she doesn't line up to how you think she should be.**

**Disclaimer: As always, nothing Sherlock Holmes related belongs to me in any way shape or form.**

He inhaled deeply, dragging the nicotine filled smoke into his lungs and exhaling it with a sigh. Every year it felt like a weight was crushing his chest. Every year his mind would be fit to burst with the unanswered questions. People said lose got better with time. Well, in the words of his beloved, Caitlyn: bull and shit. Each birthday, anniversary, and holiday was like a fresh blow, a new wound opening at the thought that once again he was to spend this time alone.

Bringing the cigarette to his lips, he inhaled again. The only thing that seemed to ease the pain, slow the torturous thoughts was drugs. It was why he started in the first place. To escape the pain of losing Caitlyn. But she was also the reason he stopped. He could just imagine her fury if she ever found out what he had done. He winced, thinking of her perfect right hook, one of the few things her absentee father had ever taught her. She would no doubt be screaming at him, "If you wanted to kill yourself why not use a gun? It's faster and won't put me and everyone else around you through this much torture!"

He sighed as he heard John moving about the flat behind him. Sherlock had taken up a vigil beside the window, watching drunkards wander up and down Bakers Street while singing out holiday songs and shouting Happy New Year to each other. Normally John would be out celebrating as well, probably with his latest girlfriend, Mary. But instead he was here, making sure Sherlock didn't dive off the deep end. Quite literally.

Sherlock liked Mary, though. The first of John's girlfriends to say that. They had met her on a case and it had quickly became clear that she could easily keep up with them, fitting in with the Work just as easily as John had that first day. She also seemed to have decided to take Sherlock as something of a little brother, always sending John home from a date with food for him or coming over to tidy up and make sure he wasn't lying around in his pajamas all day. At first it had been more than a bit annoying, but Sherlock quickly grew fond of having the blonde woman around. It was nice having her fluttering around taking care of both Sherlock and John, calling them 'her boys' alongside Mrs. Hudson. So no, Sherlock didn't mind Mary, but John knew him well enough to know that on a night like tonight he would not want an audience to his pain.

Taking in another drag, Sherlock spotted a taxi pulling up right outside 221B. Right on time. Mary could be quite persistent when she wanted to be. Apparently, it didn't matter what they were going through, she was going to be there for both of her boys.

There was no knock or bell to announce her presence before he heard the quiet clack of her shoes on the stairs. She had quickly taken to just waltzing in on her own, using the key John had given her in case of emergencies. She heard her shuffle out of her coat as she entered the main room and John sigh in fond exasperation, rising to greet her.

"I thought you had a work party to go to," he said quietly, kissing her chastely in greeting.

"I did, but to use Sherlock's word, it was dull. I left as soon as the clock struck twelve."

John chuckled, "Well, how about some tea then."

Mary hummed in agreement, "I tried texting both of you to tell you I'd be over soon."

"Sorry," John's voice drifted over now from the kitchen. "Left the mobiles on silent." His tone was heavy with implications. Sherlock had known John had shared his past with Mary, and hadn't really minded, but he wished they wouldn't discuss it with him in the room. He inhaled the cigarette deeply, only to find it was nothing more than a stump. Flicking it into the ashtray at his side, he pulled out another.

"That's alright," she answered, "I thought it'd be something like that." Sherlock listened as Mary moved closer to him. A slim hand rested on his shoulder, briefly squeezing in an almost reassuring way. "Happy New Year, Sherlock," she said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to his sharp cheekbone before moving to help John with the tea.

"You two really should check your phones more though," Mary said some time later. "What if that nice DI you work with called with a case? Lestrade was it?"

Sherlock blocked out John's answer. The woman had a point. Lestrade could have very well tried to reach him with a case. And goodness knew he needed the distraction. He dug his phone out of his robe pocket, internally wondering why Mary had failed to mention his inability to dress properly at home again. Was he really in that bad a state during the holidays? Shrugging lightly, he quickly flipped through the few well wishes people still bothered him with. Lestrade had sent nothing about any cases. He sighed, finding Mary's text just before a number he didn't recognize.

Shocked was not a word that could encompass everything he felt in that moment, but as his brain had seemed to – for once in his life – fail him momentarily, it would have to do. That mysterious number is suddenly all he can repeat in his mind, committing it to memory like he had never done with anything else.

"Sherlock?" Mary's kind voice punctured his shock induced haze. "You're being awfully quiet. Well, more than usual."

John chuckled lightly, thought when he spoke his voice had a tinge of concern, "Yeah, mate, you alright?"

Sherlock spun around to face them, gray eyes wide in amazement and apprehension and a million other emotions the other two couldn't name. Wordlessly, he held out his phone for John to take, his hand shaking slightly. The text message was short and clear, vivid in his mind. It was almost as if he were reading it again as John bent his head to look at the phone, Mary peering over his shoulder.

**Happy New Year. I'll see you soon. All my love, CMH**


End file.
